Moments later, the warrior in black armor standing beside the Queen took a practice sword from the rack and walked to the center of the arena. He said to Aldric, "Kid, you shouldn't provoke people you can't afford to provoke. If you kneel and beg for mercy now, I might leave you with your life."
Aldric curled his lip. "State your name. Otherwise, I won't know who I beat when I brag about my record later."
The warrior sneered. "Sandor Clegane. Remember it well, so when people ask who crippled you, you won't be speechless."
After trading trash talk, they assumed stances, ready to fight.
Just as the battle was about to erupt, Theon Greyjoy suddenly stepped forward, knelt on one knee, and said to King Robert, "Your Grace!" He explained, "Lewie Seres came from outside the city at your summons and hasn't rested before fighting Sandor Clegane. This is too rushed. Please let him rest, or at least allow him a cup of wine."
King Robert thought for a moment and agreed. He shouted to a squire, "Give him a wineskin! Let him drink, then fight!"
Aldric relaxed his stance, secretly puzzled. I stole Theon's thunder earlier; it would be nice enough if the Greyjoy kid didn't kick me while I'm down. Why help me?
Perhaps sensing Aldric's gaze, Theon looked back, smiled at Aldric, nodded, then turned away to chat with the watching warriors.
Aldric couldn't figure out why Theon helped, but it didn't matter. The priority was the duel with Sandor Clegane.
He grabbed the wineskin, chugged it dry, and strode into the center. Surprisingly, Clegane showed rare kindness: "Maybe you should go to the privy too."
Aldric responded firmly, "No need. Come on."
After the brief exchange, a fierce duel unfolded in the training yard. Aldric's brass-colored figure collided violently with Clegane's black silhouette. The clash of swords echoed through Winterfell. Knowing this was a worthy opponent, Aldric held nothing back, performing a violent yet beautiful dance of slaughter.
However, despite Clegane's best efforts, he couldn't withstand Aldric's ferocious attacks. After a few exchanges, his trembling hands could no longer grip his sword hilt. Aldric switched footwork nimbly, moved behind Clegane, struck the sword from his hand, and chopped down at his neck.
Thud.
Sandor Clegane fell forward and passed out.
Aldric stabbed his longsword steadily into the ground and announced, "Ser Clegane might need a few days of rest."
King Robert finally looked at Aldric squarely and said slowly, "He's not a Ser, but he probably does need a few days of rest." Then, the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, the strongest warrior of the realm—Robert Baratheon—threw off his cloak, revealing his burly body, looking eager to try.
"Lancel, armor me! I want to meet him myself!" Robert ordered.
But Lord Eddard immediately intervened. "Your Grace, no need, Your Grace."
Robert was excited. "Ned, don't stop me. I haven't felt this way in a long time."
Ned whispered, "Your Grace, you are the Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Do you trust him to fight you with full strength?"
Robert paused, his gaze falling on the expressionless Aldric standing outside the circle again. After a long time, he sighed. "Being this damn King is so boring."
With that, Robert turned and walked toward the Great Hall, leaving a lonely back view.
After the entourage left with the King, a middle-aged man in white armor walked over. He stuffed a heavy purse into Aldric's chest and laughed, "Kid, good job. But why didn't you hit Clegane in the face? Every time I see that twisted ugly mug, I feel like I swallowed a fly."
The man patted Aldric's arm, then jogged to catch up with the King.
On the way back from Winterfell, Aldric happily counted the gold coins in the bag. One hundred and ninety-seven Gold Dragons. His mood soared.
He said happily to his student, "Kevin, you keep the money." But no one took it.
Aldric looked back and saw Kevin riding half a length behind, looking sullen.
"What's wrong?"
Kevin asked resentfully, "Teacher, why did you accept the dwarf's deal? You could have won easily."
Aldric smiled. "Beat Jaime Lannister? Forget it. Fighting anyone is fighting. I didn't lose, did I? Besides, that guy Sandor Clegane wasn't weak. Defeating him is honorable."
Aldric ignored the still-depressed Kevin and reviewed his recent life. Since leaving White Harbor, he had drifted, largely because he lacked money.
Now, with 197 Gold Dragons, and if the Lannister dwarf kept his promise, another few dozen coming...
With this startup capital, the Silver Hand's recruitment could accelerate. This was his foundation of force. He couldn't be picky about character, combat power, or experience anymore. Whoever was willing to join, he'd take. Whether they were good or not, the battlefield would decide.
Before transmigrating, Aldric saw a "prophecy" mentioning the crisis in the North accompanied by war in the South.
Therefore, he realized gathering intelligence on the Southern political environment was equally important.
He planned to chat with Brother John and Rennel to understand the triggers for war in the South and prepare.
As for the Northern threat, Aldric believed it was mainly White Walkers and Wildlings beyond the Wall. Since he was in the North, he decided to personally check whether it was White Walkers or Wildlings while the danger was still brewing.
Of course, he needed a suitable opportunity.
Lost in thought, Aldric was carried back to the blacksmith's courtyard by "Lightning." Pushing open the gate, he found Conrad, Juan, Eddie, John, and Rennel gathered around the fire drinking. Rennel's finger was bandaged, and the others had clubs and blunt weapons at hand, seemingly on guard.
Seeing his friends gathered, Aldric asked, "Yo, you're all here? What's going on?"
Eddie answered for the group, "Captain, are you okay? We saw even the spider was gone and worried something happened to you!"
Touched by his teammates' concern, Aldric didn't show it but sat by the fire. "I'm fine. The King bought my spider. Rennel, how's your hand? Does it hinder you?"
Rennel raised his right hand, showing the bandaged middle finger, and smiled bitterly. "What do you think?"
Aldric laughed. "Hahaha... then you'll have to rest for a few days."
Rennel said helplessly, "What else can I do? If I go on stage, the guests won't listen to my stories; they'll just stare at my hand and laugh."
Pausing, Rennel asked hesitantly, "Aldric, were those guys yesterday really the King's men? Did they trouble you?"
Aldric threw a stick into the fire, watching the sparks fly. "The blond kid yesterday seemed to be a Lannister. After I beat him, he went home to complain to the adults. Today, Jaime Lannister wanted to trouble me and duel me. But the opponent was switched last minute, and I barely won."
Hearing this, Rennel forgot his pain. "Won? Tell me quickly!"
Others gathered around. "Yeah, yeah, Captain, tell us!" "Tell us!"
Seeing their interest, Aldric recounted the duel in detail.
After listening, the group fell silent.
After a while, Rennel sighed, "That's the Lannisters for you..."
Seeing Aldric safe, their worries vanished. They chatted until the moon was high, then went home. Aldric washed up and slept.
However, the next night, the Silver Hand comrades gathered in the courtyard again, worried about follow-up trouble. To thank them, Aldric bought fresh pork belly and made a delicious pork stew, and bought good wine to treat everyone.
As they drank, a knock came from outside. Aldric ordered, "Kevin, open the door." Though still sullen about yesterday, Kevin obeyed.
Outside stood the Lannister dwarf, Tyrion, and two servants. Tyrion asked, "Hey, kid, where's your teacher?" Kevin glanced at Aldric, who didn't react, so he invited Tyrion in.
Tyrion walked into the yard, sat next to Aldric, and greeted, "Hi, friend."
But Aldric, still holding a grudge from yesterday afternoon, sipped his soup and ignored him.
Tyrion shrugged, untied a small leather bag from his waist, and placed it on the bench. "Last night, Jaime found Lancel—the kid you beat up—and asked about what happened the day before. He asked me to apologize for his recklessness and thank you for defending his honor. There are fifty Gold Dragons in the bag. The extra fifteen are Jaime's compensation to you. You know, a Lannister always pays his debts."
Aldric weighed the bag and smiled at Tyrion. "And your friendship?"
Tyrion stared into Aldric's eyes and answered sincerely, "Of course, and my friendship."
Aldric nodded satisfactorily, pocketed the money, and turned to his student. "Kevin, bring three bowls. Serve soup for Lord Tyrion and his companions. I hope Lord Tyrion doesn't mind our plain dinner."
Tyrion laughed. "Haha, with my small body, I can't eat much."
Hearing this, Aldric turned, his expression serious. "Lord Tyrion, in my eyes, you are not small. I have seen too many fools who grow meat but no brains. If they aren't dwarfs, then you are a giant. So, please don't mock your stature in front of me. That is not true friendship."
Tyrion put away his playful expression, was silent for a moment, then smiled purely. "Then I shall taste what soup a giant drinks."